


Rest

by transfixme_quite



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixme_quite/pseuds/transfixme_quite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While making dinner for herself and Ichabod, Abbie gets choked up thinking about the turn of events in her life.</p><p>"When the people you love are gone, you're alone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest

Abbie had been too tired to take Ichabod back to his hotel room, and thought maybe some food would give her a bit of pep, so she invited him over for dinner. With a smile, he accepted, and they were on their way.

There was some chicken breast in her fridge and she decided on some simple chicken and alfredo pasta. Ichabod had easily taken her instructions of rinsing the meat, seasoning it, and putting it in the oven while she prepared the sauce for the pasta from unsweetened almond milk, which Ichabod had been very intrigued by and impressed with. 

She stood over the sauce as she stirred it, the water in the pan next to it coming to a slow boil, and her mind began to wander. Ichabod had been quiet, examining the appliances in her kitchen without turning any of them on, and the silence reminded her of the last time she had someone in the kitchen with her while she cooked.

In a weird way, she missed Luke. Not enough to rekindle the relationship, but he had been a really good presence in her life. They would share cooking duties and laugh together about the day's events. She remembered telling him stories about the bizarre yet mundane calls she and Sheriff Corbin would get. Cats on roofs. A wily sprinkler system. A binocular-wielding teenager.

A tear escaped her eye. She couldn't lean on Luke anymore, and the sheriff... Well he was gone completely. She hadn't had time to realize just how alone she felt now, because she had had Quantico. She was supposed to be leaving them all behind for a new and exciting life. But instead, she was still here, her mentor was gone, and her comfortable other was no longer comfortable. She sniffled quietly, or so she thought.

"Lieutenant?" Ichabod's voice echoed in her ears and she shook her head and laughed to herself. "Are you alright?" She heard him shuffling over to her, but she didn't respond. "Miss Mills..." His voice softened, and she dropped the spatula into the pan and lowered her head.

"I don't know what my life is anymore." She said morosely. She shrugged and poured the pasta into the now boiling water, then placed a hand on her hip. "I'm not supposed to be here."

Ichabod did not retort with biblical scripture, or reminders of the monsters running around wreaking havoc on the town. She heard him release a breath she was sure he'd been holding since the first sniffle. Her own breath hitched, and she covered her mouth with her hand in an attempt to delay the sob. This wasn't how she'd envisioned the dinner going.

She suddenly felt the warmth of his body near hers, though she hadn't heard him come closer. He put his hands on her shoulders, almost unsure at first, then with more certainty. She exhaled at the touch. It had been too long since she was reminded that she wasn't alone in this great big world. He moved closer, so that her back was against his chest.

"Abbie." It was simple, a gesture no one else would have understood the gravity of, but just the sound of her name coming from Ichabod sent Abbie into a fit of tears. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his chin on her temple, just holding her as close as he could as he felt her body convulse with sorrow and loss. He swayed her almost imperceptibly, and began humming a nonsensical tune he'd remembered his mother singing to him a very long time ago.

Abbie leaned into his touch, and laid her hands on his, wanting to feel, as well as be felt. They stood that way until her tears subsided, which was when she realized she needed to take the alfredo sauce off the stove. She squeezed his hands, to thank him, but to also keep him where he was as she turned off the burner and stirred it a little more.

"Want to test it out before I mix it in?" She asked, her voice breaking slightly.

"I'd love to." He let her go, but only to move next to her, his right arm still held her close. He took the spatula from her and tasted the sauce. First, he reacted to the temperature, making her laugh a bit, but when he got to the taste, he made an approving sound, smiling down at Abbie. She smiled back, looking away from him.

Finally, she left his grip, draining the pasta, and preparing it to be served. Ichabod checked the chicken, which seemed to be done, verified by Abbie, and she divvied up everything on to the plates, bringing them out to the dining area.

"It smells like heaven." Ichabod said, coming to stand next to her to admire the meals before they sat. As she looked up to thank him, she was stopped short by the feel of his lips on her forehead. He stroked her hair, looking deep into her eyes, making her feel like he was seeing a part of her no one ever bothered to look for. "You are not alone." He pulled out a chair at the head of the table, motioning for her to sit, and she did. He sat next to her, on the corner, and picked up his fork. "Thank you for dinner." He smiled, and began to eat.

"You're...welcome." Abbie managed, knowing he would most likely not allow her to thank him for the kindness he'd just bestowed. They ate, and he listened and laughed as she told him stories about the sheriff, and some of the bizarre calls they been sent on back in the day. She felt joy creep back into her, and for the first time since Corbin's death, she felt a sense of relief.

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as gen or pre-relationship. Either way works pretty well, but I'm leaning towards the latter. =)


End file.
